Something's got a hold on me || Wishbone ||

[Wolfbane]

I believe I'd die if I only could

I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good

His fault had always been that Wolfbane was a good-natured stallion, even behind the roguish charm. Not as reckless or careless (depending on who you asked) as @[Wishbone] clearly was. He’d looked up to her, felt that understanding only two horses who lived like family could know and feel, and together they’d shared everything - everything - in the way of traumatic childhood issues. When they grew up and separated themselves by fate Wolfbane never forgot that it was Wishbone who’d seen him at his lowest and most exposed. How could he? Later, in his desperation to grow a sort of adult love for her, Bane always did his best to halo Bone in some sort of untouchable light. Something like that same type of ‘goodness’ he’d always emulated himself.

But that hadn’t been what she wanted, had it?

“Not at all.” He knows without having to say it. Her golden-black lips caressed the sweet spot of his cheek and Wolfbane knew better now, radiating under the warmth of her unexpected kiss. She stroked the egotistical part of himself, the Longclaw part who felt there was hardly anything better than the way she felt right now as Wishbone stepped closer, pressed harder into the unyielding planes of his rippling chest. “A pity I’ve never satisfied those feelings,” He couldn’t help but lip at the feathering of dark, layered hair streaming down the length of Bone’s graceful neck. Now and then the dull pressure of his fangs would scrape against her part line or nudge the flesh underneath that glossy mane, “better late than never.” Bane mused just above a whisper.

At the same moment his sentence faded, his wings unfurled and rose to curtain them both from prying eyes behind. He dug his heels into frosty topsoil and ripped the grass with a soft, wet popping sound when the blue hooves twisted and gave him leverage. Bane’s head recoiled and he pushed his bulky weight into the slightly taller mare, his forefeet just rising up for an infinitely slow second or two as he readied to strike.

The bare winter sun glinted like shattered light over a stained-glass scene: Wolfbane using his power in a show of surprising and unexpected strength to try and overwhelm Wishbone in the heat of their reunion, suspended there in a blinding minute just before his prickly fangs would come down and sink into the rolling waves of her body spread out before him.

He felt glorious. He felt the same fire she felt, perhaps in a different but necessary way. He wanted to ravage every part of her but keep her pristine, and that was only the beginning. He understood now; he should've taken her as his own lifetimes ago.

For this thread:  Sex: M  ◉  Appearance: Normal  ◉  Mood: Excited